


The Question of Family, Foe or Friend

by PaperAnn



Series: PaperAnn's Kink Bingo 2017 Works [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel & Vessel Interactions, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Friends, Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe in Miracles?, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grace Bonds, M/M, Making Out, Reconciliation, Season/Series 09, Sharing a Bed, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2017, Touch-Starved Sam Winchester, Vessel Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: When Gadreel goes behind Metatron's back and shows up at the bunker, he has more to say than a pledge to switch sides.  He has an apology and a disclosure that shakes Sam more than he wants to admit.If the confession is true, then Sam has some investigating of his own to do.  A sleepless night leads him to test some theories and push some boundaries.  As his world is falling apart around him, Sam figures why not tow some lines and cross others he never imagined doing before?





	The Question of Family, Foe or Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017  
> Square Filled: Sadreel
> 
> We're in the homestretch, thanks to my darling beta [GlitchedWings](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/)!

Everything happened so fast, Sam didn’t know what to think.  It was an explosion of movement, a flurry of emotions and a punch to the gut.  Seeing Gadreel again, Dean tricking him _then_ violently attacking him with the First Blade, not knowing who to _trust_ — who to be _afraid of_ anymore… because right now?  It was looking like his own brother was the biggest threat of all.    
  
Even though it hurt to lock him away, day by day, he could see the Dean he knew dissolving slowly into madness.  The Mark was eating him alive, taking away who he was at his core, and nothing had scared Sam more than this.

A bullet wound, they could dress.  Hell, it wasn’t even uncommon for a Winchester to escape death, itself—they’d done so many times.  But Dean was losing sight of his humanity.  How could you fix the insane with a taste for bloodlust?  How could you fix—?

It didn’t matter.  
  
After Sam and Castiel saw that Gadreel, offering them a truce, was gone (hell, who could blame him?) they had a blood trail to follow.

It led outside, and the amount of crimson spilled on the pavement was steadily increasing, telling them the angel was in horrible shape because of that ugly, cut-throat new extension of Dean's wrath.  God, just a simple graze of those bones and teeth could do horrible things, it was even worse than the gouge of an angel blade.

Gadreel begged for death, clutching a wound that would easily bleed out.  Yet Castiel, in a moment that showed exactly who he was at his core, showed him mercy.  Shit, he took it a step further, to the point that he’d taken a hit _himself_.    
  
Healing Gadreel cost even more depletion of his stolen grace.  It showed in the stumble after the glowing dissipated and the wound was healed.  Sam had to lunge out to keep the angel upright.    
  
And, fuck, if Sam was poised to snap at him!  But then again… that’s what Cas did.  Sam couldn’t order him around, and another thing Sam constantly forgot was that no matter what happened—Gadreel  _was_ Castiel's brother.  
  
Gadreel was Cas' family, each angel held a special place, and Cas was constantly trying to save who he could because of his heart.  Sam of all people should have known that.  Even if he had just locked his own brother in the dungeon.

“You’re serious about flipping sides,” Sam’s voice was cold as he addressed Gadreel before they turned back into the bunker.  “Why do you want to help.  Now?”

His eyes flickered to the ground, and when he spoke it was directed more to Castiel than Sam.  “Metatron.  He’s not who I thought he was.  He boasted about how he manipulated our brethren into being the suicide bombs to discredit you, Castiel.  To win over your faction.  He was proud, smug about the killings of our family.  He’s no leader.  He had me fooled and I’m ashamed I didn’t see him for what he was sooner.”

“So it really was Metatron’s followers?” With a scoff, Sam ran a hand through his hair.  “That’s _sick_.  That’s…” his teeth ground together and he glanced over to see how Castiel was taking it.

His lips were pursed and his nostrils flared as he growled out, “The senseless butchery.  All because we wish for Heaven again, and he wishes to play God.”

“That’s why I came,” Gadreel’s sincerity was undeniable.  “I can give you information.  I can—”

“Not out here, we need to go back where we’re warded,” Castiel realized, the breeze kicking up outside the bunker.  “We don’t know if you’ve been followed.”

“I can assure you I wasn’t, but before we go…” he was hesitant, like he couldn’t quite get the words out.  “Sam.  May I… speak with you?”  When both Sam and Castiel shared a glance, he specified, “Alone?  Just for a moment?”

Castiel instantly cut forward and planted his feet in front of Sam, narrowing his eyes dangerously, “Was this your plan?  Did Metatron send you to get the Winchesters and—”

“No!” Gadreel looked shocked at the accusation and shook his head.  “No, I promise you, brother!  There are some thing I’d like to say to him in confidence.  Please.”

Sam stepped up behind the posturing angel and patted him on the back.  He assured him while gripping his shoulder, “Hey.  Cas, it’s all right.  I’ll be in in a sec, okay?”  Seeing the tension hadn’t left Cas’ rigid form, he tried to laugh and order, “Go!  I’ve got an angel blade and I know he’s probably been stabbed enough for one night.”

Begrudgingly, Castiel finally stood down and warned, “Don’t take too long.  Or I’ll be back.”

While Sam didn’t turn his back on Gadreel, he made sure that Cas returned to the bunker's entrance.  If he were being honest—he wanted someone in there to make sure Dean was all right.  Even though he knew for a fact his friend would be hovering in the doorway instead of keeping guard in the dungeon, waiting for the pair to come back inside.  At least he’d be guarding the front, which served as an exit also.

Now, though… Sam was curious.  Hesitant and suspicious, but curious.  What the hell did this angel have to say to him now that he was ‘switching sides’ to join them?  With hackles raised, Sam’s hands were jammed in his pockets as he turned to face Gadreel.

“All right.  We’re alone.  What is it?”  His voice was cold, his words clipped, and he couldn’t figure out why the angel was looking at him like… that.

With remorse, regret, and something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Sam shouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest when the first words out of Gadreel’s mouth were, “I’m _so_ sorry, Sam.  For what I put you through when I began working with Metatron.  I should have left your vessel then, when our goals no longer aligned, but you weren’t healed yet and I—”

“I shouldn't have been your vessel in the first place!” Sam suddenly spat out.  “You _used me_ , you tricked everyone, you killed Kevin and—”

“And I’m apologizing with everything in me!”  There was a surge of power in Gadreel’s voice and he took a step in, saying, “But I don’t feel bad for saving your life.”  Sam paused for a second, and that was just the faltering moment the angel needed to prompt him, “Did you ever feel threatened by me when I was in your vessel, Sam?

With a roll of his eyes, Sam retorted, “You can’t _feel_ _—_ ”

“That’s a lie.  You felt Lucifer.”  Gadreel’s words were unwavering, even though Sam flinched at the name.  “It doesn’t matter if you’re aware or not, your soul is surrounded by grace and it reacts to it.  It feels the energy, the _intent_ , the very core of who we angels are.  No matter what sort of backseat Lucifer promised you, you could still feel the wickedness, it lingered like a fog.”

The brazen intensity was surprising to Sam, because while he knew that Gadreel may have had a front-row seat to dig into his head, he didn’t think he could get that far in to know his sixth sense during possession, right?  Sure, his brain was free game but residual feelings and gut instincts?  That was...something else.  It left Sam experiencing a sense of vulnerability because what else had Gadreel felt?

That same intensity held strong when he took another step forward and asked again, “Did you ever feel afraid with me?  Unsafe?  Scared?  I…need you to be honest.”

“No.”

The word was out of Sam’s mouth before he knew he’d said it.  He almost wanted to slap a hand over his face because of it.  However, Gadreel was right.  It had been night and day, and now the way the angel was glowing?  It was bright and open, which Sam didn’t understand.  Although, they _were_ lacking a certain amount of personal space—

“Good.”  Gadreel was calmer now, satisfied, as he confessed, “I’ve felt disgraced almost every minute of my existence.  Every moment I was in that prison.  The second I realized the horror of what I was doing for Metatron.  But right before I made that mistake, I was given a gift within the freedom of the Fall.”

“What was that?” Sam asked with a shaky voice, because he honestly had no idea what the angel would consider to be a ’gift,’ especially given his first sentiments and this build up.  But now there was a very obvious fondness holding steady in Gadreel’s gaze, one Sam wanted to shrink away from, but his pride wouldn’t let him.

Curiosity and intrigue were strong motivators.

There was a smile that tugged on the corners of Gadreel’s lips when he said, “I wanted to do as my Father wished of all angels.  I wanted to love His creation, something I was never allowed to do from the inside of a cell.  When Dean prayed, it was _finally_ my chance and I took it.  I never expected you, though.”

Was Sam crazy or were they even closer together than before?  And why didn’t he care?  He was too entranced by the words

“I put so much love into knitting you back together, especially once I knew from your memories what tore you apart.  I took my time and did so with care and I learned about your past…all the trauma, all the triumphs and the heartbreak.   _You_ , Sam Winchester—” Gadreel’s hand rose and at first, it cupped his cheek—the warmth was oddly familiar and Sam was too late to lean against it, because it quickly dropped to his shoulder.  “You are an amazing, inspiring human, one of my Father’s greatest creations.  You deserve the love that you freely give.”

There wasn’t even a word of _that_ that Sam had been expecting.  He was speechless, his mouth was dry and he couldn’t stop staring (gawking, really) at the angel in front of him.

He knew damn well that Gadreel had been tricked, just as all the other angels had been, even though his wrongdoings had hit way too close-to-home.  Sam was having difficulty digesting all of this—fuck!

“I…” Sam fumbled out, “I don’t know what to say.  I guess, thanks?  And…” Sam knew that it took guts to follow through with that, and as Gadreel’s hand drew away from him, Sam grabbed it on impulse alone and said quietly, “I guess I should thank you for healing me.  In the chaos, that was the last thing on my mind.  But you’re right—you _did_ save me.”

“It’s quite nice, you know,” Gadreel mused, “Being in front of you in another vessel.  I truly wished for that, so you could move on with your life.  I don’t wish to speak ill of him but your brother,” he huffed out a laugh that made Sam grin, “makes lofty requests of angels, you know.  I had to save a few people’s lives, which drained my energy when I would have rather been taking care of you.”

It dawned on Sam just how truthful he was being.  That it was Gadreel’s honor that had gotten him mixed up in this whole clusterfuck.  That, when the angels fell, he wanted to be another one of the flock—but he’d been lured to a Winchester.  When all the other angels knew exactly who the brothers were (not to mention the trouble it spelled out for anyone involved with them) Gadreel’s imprisonment had likely left him ignorant.

He was doomed from the start.    
  
Gadreel wanted to help, to make a difference, and trying had gotten him caught in the cross-hairs of a battle for Heaven with the wrong crowd.  He was playing the part of the tragic hero, and Sam understood because he had been there, hell—he unleashed the Devil into the world.  If _anyone_ could understand good intentions gone bad, it was him.

“I’m glad you figured out what was happening, that Metatron wasn’t who you thought,” Sam said and cleared his throat.

“That’s the problem.”  Gadreel shrugged his shoulders and sighed.  “ _You_ were always who I thought you were.  I never should have betrayed you.”

“Let’s just move forward, okay?  Kick him off his high horse and save the day?”

“Sam!” Castiel's shout echoed all the way from the doorway, “I can’t find Dean!”

“What?!”  His stomach dropped, and when Sam took off to run—he realized he was still holding Gadreel’s hand.  

What was happening here?!  

His long legs got him to the door in no time and he heard equally rushed footsteps behind him.  Castiel looked frantic when he waved them in, Sam demanding, “What do you mean?  He’s missing or something?!”

Their only clue was the smell of sulfur in the dungeon.  Yet, it was more than a clue, it was the _answer_ , and there wasn’t anything they could do right now.  The thing that sucked even more was that once the Mark of Cain was brought up, Gadreel agreed it was the best course of action.  Their best chance to win, to survive.  That using the first blade, using his _brother_ as a weapon may be the only way to defeat Metatron.

It wasn’t fair.  None of this was fair.

\--------------------------

Sam couldn’t sleep.  Not even the booze he’d drank straight from the bottle as a nightcap helped him.  Not even a little.  Maybe it even caused his thoughts to spin faster, his mind to work harder, having the complete opposite effect as to why he’d drank in the first fucking place.  Eventually, even the tossing and turning got old, and his frustration mounted, making him throw back the sheets and bound out of his bed.

He silently padded through the halls and peered in to see Cas curled up on top of the covers in Dean’s room.  Sam wiped a hand down his face, because this was hard for all of them.  Castiel was a glorified human now, just jacked up on angel juice and he was losing a lover.  Everyone was screwed, there were no winners.

Weighing the options over whether or not more booze would help, Sam found himself passing the war room on the way to the kitchen.  That was where he found Gadreel sitting silently, blankly staring off into space.  It was ironic that it didn’t bother Sam, because that’s what Castiel used to do.  Hell, it was more normative to see this than an angel sleeping.

“Hey,” Sam greeted softly, walking up to the edge of the table and sitting up against the wooden surface.  “Think this plan is going to work?”

Gadreel nodded and confirmed, “Metatron draws his power from the Angel Tablet and I’m frequently in his office.  I know where he stores it.”

“Do you think he’s going to be suspicious?  You being gone so long?” he wondered aloud and scooted closer, speaking in a hushed voice even though they were far away from the bedrooms.  Far away from Cas.

Sam was also interested about something _else_  too, as he deliberately entered that ‘invasive’ personal space bubble once more.  The one that angels didn’t acknowledge but humans sure as hell did.  Maybe he was pushing boundaries on purpose.

“I highly doubt it.  He sent me on a mission.  Sometimes it takes longer to scout or to finish the job.  I’ll have only been gone a night,” Gadreel explained, watching as Sam decided to lean on his side, atop the table.  “Are you unable to sleep?  I could assist you.”

Sam hummed thoughtfully, actually considering it.  But something that he was considering _more_  had to do with the recollection of when Gadreel had brushed his cheek.  All that talk about his grace, feeling safe and loved—it was in his touch too, and it made Sam wonder…    
  
Was it all past tense?  Was it a confession?  Because he felt that warmth, that security, within Gadreel touch.

When Lucifer possessed him, it had been just that.  He felt dirty, used, tainted.    
  
Gadreel was right, it didn’t matter if you were riding shotgun or not, you truly could feel the essence of the angel (or demon, now that Sam thought about it) taking you for a spin.  Gadreel…he did have a soft and compassionate way about him.  Yet, it also came with a fierce protectiveness for the vessel he was in: for Sam.  In retrospect, he’d experienced it in regards for himself _and_ for Dean.  It was genuine and this whole situation was fucking nuts.  
  
When situations took these unexpected u-turns?  When everything around him was falling apart anyway?  That was when Sam didn’t care anymore and he let his logic fall to the wayside.  He just _acted_ , because in this instance...that was the only way to get answers.

Sam snatched up Gadreel’s hand, the angel stammering out, “Wh-what are you doing?” as Sam forcefully connected it to his cheek, holding it there to make up for the previous aborted attempt.

His mouth hung open in surprise but when Sam’s hand dropped—Gadreel’s remained.  Then he cupped the side of Sam’s face like he was _supposed to_ , his thumb caressing across the surface tenderly.  Maybe the angel was awestruck, but Sam relaxed into it, trying hard not to just close his eye and melt because he was touch-starved.  That was putting it mildly.

And this…felt _really_ nice.

“You tried before.”  Sam explained quietly, “I wanted to let you know it was okay.”

“Oh,” his voice was covered in sheer disbelief.  “Thank you.”

This whole night, the whole situation, _everything_ suddenly caused a burst of laughter to rumble out of Sam’s chest, and he couldn’t hold it in.  Just when things couldn’t feel or get any worse, it was these stupid, tiny things that would make him momentarily forget, and, God, was he grateful.  When the laughter died down to a chuckle, Sam collapsed onto his back on the table while Gadreel had tilted his head to the side in what appeared to be worry.

Except, Sam had underestimated him.  What he’d thought was just the angel bracing himself to stand up, was really Gadreel putting his hands on each side of Sam’s head to duck down and kiss him.

Even though his initial response was a sharp gasp—slowly—Sam’s arms rose to wrap around the angel’s neck.

Anyone else waxing the poetry Gadreel had, Sam would’ve called bullshit on.  Yet the lips practically worshiping his and experiencing this underlying yearning—they told Sam the truth.  Honesty (in any form) was so goddamn rare these days.  It was like striking gold.  And Sam showed him exactly how much he appreciated the truth by rushing upward and deepening the reverent kisses.  

He hauled Gadreel closer needing to feel more of his heat, of his familiar and welcome grace surging right under the surface.  Sam’s hands were desperate to get them as close together as possible, and he realized…maybe it had something to do with the vessel situation?  Maybe he craved Gadreel’s grace for a reason?    
  
Maybe his body, or himself on a larger scale, innately knew Gadreel had saved him.

It wasn’t as though his actions weren’t his own, no, _Sam_ was very much enjoying kissing the hell out of the friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend angel.  The only thing was his body and his mind had two different agendas.

And that’s when Sam wondered…

He pulled away, leaving them both flushed and catching their breath, Gadreel’s expression fiery in a beautiful way Sam had never believed possible.  But it was, and it was for _Sam_ _—_

“Am I…”  He swallowed hard, looking for the right way to describe it.  “Are we like magnets because I was your vessel?  Is it like your grace and my body just…attract because of it?”

Gadreel appeared pensive and he chewed on an already swollen lip.  With a deep breath, he suggested, “It's never been a problem until now.  I’d suppose if we were like magnets, it would’ve happened sooner.”

Yeah, he was right.  Still, Sam couldn’t get around it.  This feeling.

“I think…I can still feel you.  Or my soul wants to reach out to you.  I was alright before, but then Cas removed the residual grace and since that happened, I got…itchy.  I don’t know if that makes _any_ sense but—”

His eyes instantly widened, and Gadreel blurted, “That was supposed to stay there, Sam!  It was a _safeguard_ against the other angels, it—”  He shook his head and abruptly huffed, “Or maybe it was just a piece of me I hoped would help do some good after the terrible things I’d done.  In that case, it may make more sense.  Perhaps, on a deeper level, one you didn’t even know existed, you never _wanted_ to get rid of it.”

“Yeah…”

Sam was sitting up on the table and thought long and hard about what he was going to do.  Except, not that long, because there was only one option if he was planning on sleeping tonight.  There was only one thing that could calm him, give him a sense of security even though it came from the oddest place.

Sam seized Gadreel’s hand once more and this time he didn’t let go.  Instead, he tugged him along in a very deliberate direction, taking the lead with intent.  Sam refused to think about how many times the angel had been down these halls _as him_ , he stuffed that thought as far away in his head as he could.    
  
He pretended this was a perfect world.  That he was pulling the angel through the bunker for the first time, leading him to his bedroom.  Sam would play up his ignorance to the fact that Gadreel had already spent countless nights there with him—in a different way he had never agreed to—locked away in secret.  
  
But...Sam was agreeing to it now.  Oh, how things had come full circle.

After shutting the door behind him, Sam didn’t bother with ceremony and collapsed down—then reached out.

Gadreel was much, much slower to follow suit.

Even his timbre was nervous, inquiring, “Why are we here, Sam?  I didn’t want you to assume that I only wanted—”

“I know.  And that’s _not_ why we’re here,” he assured Gadreel, pulling back the sheets and patting the side next to him.  “I told you.  Even if it’s not real...it _feels_ like we’re magnets.  You said it yourself, before.  And…you were right.  You _do_ make me feel safe.  And I can’t sleep, but I don’t want you to angelic-knock me out.  So kick off your shoes and climb in?”

Sam couldn’t believe he was asking this, but it was the angel’s fault for bringing it up!  As soon as he spoke of it, now the itch just wasn’t leaving, but there _was_ a solution.  Because of that, what Sam was doing wouldn’t even count as asking—he was practically _begging_ for Gadreel to join him in his bed.  What the actual fuck.

Luckily after the explanation, the light bulb seemed to illuminate and Gadreel did as instructed.  “You’ve made me very happy, Sam.  Even if it’s something small, I’m glad I can do it for you.”

The second Gadreel crawled in and relaxed back was the second Sam draped himself over the angel and things felt all right.  He wasn’t completely exhausted yet, they didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, so maybe Sam stole a few more kisses.

And, goddammit, the way Gadreel held him as they rolled around, the way he caressed him and kissed him with a barely-concealed passion—it was like Sam was something precious.  Not something breakable, no—because the way he mouthed at Sam’s neck and scraped his teeth, making him moan, was not meant for the faint of heart—but maybe Gadreel _really meant it_.

That Sam deserved love.  And even though that love wasn’t in the romantic way, the carnal way, or even the family way—Sam could _feel_ it to a certain degree.  How it happened, he wasn’t sure, but eventually the dynamic, impromptu make-out wound down and Sam was yawning.  He pulled Gadreel’s body snug against his and tangled their limbs together so they could both fit comfortably on the bed.  And because he wanted to.  He didn’t want the angel to go anywhere, now that he had them pressed together, Sam found himself wrapped in both a physical and emotional warmth.

Gadreel kissed his forehead and said with a smile, “This is much nicer than staring out into the library.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, and agreed, “This is much nicer than tossing, turning and not being able to sleep.  So, uh, thank you.”  His voice was beginning to sound drowsy even to his own ears.  “Thank you for your apology and…explanation.  It makes a lot of things clearer.  I mean, a lot of things.”

“I’m simply happy you heard me out.  You have a good heart, Sam.”  There was respect in his voice, and the smoothness was just another subtle lullaby coaxing Sam closer to dreamland.

“We’re gonna win.  We’ve got to.”  He mumbled out, “We’ve got you now.”

“We will.  I’ll keep my promise, and I’ll do everything in my power to make certain we do.  I’d like to have a chance at this again.”  Gadreel sounded wistful with just a hint of mischief in his voice.  “I enjoy this side of you.”

Sam shook his head and squeezed him closer, huffing out a laugh.  “You know what?  I enjoy this side of you, too.  Just gotta keep my brother from killing you, is all.”

“Ah,” his tonation said he’d obviously forgotten about that part.  “Yes, we’ll need to work on that.  One mission at a time.”

Rising up once more, Sam kissed him in a long, lingering goodnight kiss that bordered on almost _too_ heated.  Sam couldn’t help it, there was this spark that he continued giving into, that he kept drowning in.  And he loved every second.  Plus, it was worth it to see the pure, unadulterated joy in Gadreel’s eyes at being given a chance, and it made him want to believe in all those things the angel did.    
  
He was a good example for Sam, not to be so weathered and beaten by the world, to stand up for justice, honor and Gadreel’s freely-spoken love.  It was refreshing, seeing the world with bright eyes that should have been tired and bitter from being locked away.  But the angel was neither.

“Good night, Gadreel.  We’ll kick ass tomorrow,” Sam nuzzled in and closed his eyes.

“We will.  Good night, Sam,” he returned, wrapping an arm around his waist and allowing the room to fall into silence.

Sam finally sunk into that perfect warmth and knew damn well Gadreel was allowing his grace to burn a little brighter so Sam could feel it, so he could bask in it, doing so just because he cared.  And it was fucking amazing.  Just the sensation, the angel's thoughtfulness, and the moment—he’d never pass this up again.

It didn’t even matter how it happened, it just did and if there was a way to feel on top of the world when it was corroding around you?  Sam had found it.  In a familiar tragic hero who hadn’t been tainted or molded by human shame when it came to confessions.    
  
Gadreel speaking freely led Sam to feeling freer.  Yeah—and maybe feeling a little loved, too.


End file.
